He saw movement, too, then; a blur through the glass door. The sudden impulse to run with his wife out the back door came forth as paralysis. He couldn’t move.

‘Deer,’ he whispered, hoarse.

‘Yes?’

‘As in doe and buck. They’re after what’s left of the hosta.’ They came in families most nights to the Kavanagh hosta, but only after they finished off the azaleas.

She was trembling, an ash leaf; his heart hammered. Dear God, for the comfort of home, the innocence of his dog’s snore . . .

Maybe She Who Always Had an Idea would come up with something; he didn’t know what to do.

‘We can’t stand here all night,’ he said. It was fish or cut bait. ‘Stay there, don’t move, it’ll be fine, I’m going out.’ But only if he could walk with knees turned to water.

The movement of the door latch was nearly inaudible.

His wife’s shriek; an inferno of white light emptied into his face.

‘Put your hands where I can see ’em.’

He said something unintelligible, his vital forces blinked off.

‘Father Tim?’

Another blaze of light, a young face, a gun.

‘Joe Joe?’ he said, aghast.

Joe Joe grabbed him as he fell and stood him against the doorjamb like a cooked noodle.

‘I can explain everything,’ he said. But why bother? Let his wife do the talking.

Chapter Three

I’m off,’ she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

‘To?’

‘Concrete World, for a birdbath and two frogs under an umbrella.’

‘Don’t do the frogs,’ he said. ‘Go and be as the butterfly.’

Out she went to the garage, in breezed Puny from the stoop.

‘It’s your short day,’ he said. ‘You don’t have time to torment me.’

‘I’ve always got time for that, Father.’

She was mischief itself, he could see it coming.

She removed her sweater, rolled it into a ball, stuffed it in her bag, put the whole business under the counter, and stood up, grinning.

‘Joe Joe says you fell out when he shined that light on you.’

‘And shoved a Glock .45 in my face. Wouldn’t you fall out?’

‘I’d drop dead on th’ spot.’

‘The truth is, I did not fall out, as you say; my knees went weak, that’s all. I trust he won’t be spreading such foolish news around town.’

She took the cushion off a kitchen stool, pummeled it. ‘He would never say a word, but I don’t know about Officer Greene, th’ ol’ so-an’-so. He might tell Ruby, an’ then, you know, party time.’

‘Party time?’

‘Everybody will know you fainted. But that’s okay, men faint a lot, it’s not just women that faint. A woman tells her husband she’s havin’ twins, an’ what does he do? He falls out. A man goes to th’ doctor an’ when he hears th’ bad news, he pitches headfirst off th’ table.’

‘How do you know this?’

‘I have a friend who’s a nurse in Wesley. She says men fall out all th’ time.’ She gave what-for to another stool cushion.

‘Did Joe Joe do that when you announced you were having the girls?’

‘He actually did, I forgot about that. Hit his head on the bedstead.’ She was having a pretty good laugh about it. ‘It didn’t hurt him none, though.’

‘What about the second time around?’

‘Cool as a cucumber. Lord knows, twins don’t run in that family, they gallop. It’s nothin’ that ever come out of my family, I can tell you that.’

‘So tell Joe Joe I’ll keep quiet if he’ll keep quiet.’

‘More coffee?’

‘Half,’ he said, holding forth the mug.

‘All that uproar over nothin’,’ she said. ‘Who wouldn’t git in their car an’ shoot down to Georgia with their door wide open? Especially if her daughter was havin’ a baby a whole month early an’ lost th’ last one. If one of my girls was in that fix, I’d be leavin’ my door blared open, too.’ She rattled a handful of flatware out of the dishwasher and into a drawer. ‘It’s a good thing her neighbor spotted your car over there and called th’ police. It’s nice to know people still keep an eye out for each other.’

‘All’s well that ends well.’ He snipped the coupon from the Muse.

‘Seven pounds four ounces and a great pair of lungs, she said when Joe Joe an’ her neighbor called down to Georgia. An’ think about it—if you and Miss Cynthy hadn’t gone over to check, who knows what criminal element might’ve backed a truck in there an’ emptied th’ place?’

She lifted the lid on the Dutch oven, peered in. ‘Are you movin’ Barnabas down today?’

His heart sank.

‘I’ll help you. It’s got to git done.’

‘No, no. I mean yes. Monday. I think Monday. He likes it up there, you know. That’s home.’

‘But he’ll like it down here, too, once he gits used to it. Y’all are down here so much, it’ll be company for ’im. Where’s Miss Cynthy at?’

‘Buying a birdbath and two frogs under an umbrella.’ Actually, that was his wife’s code for buying art materials in Wesley.

‘She don’t need to buy those frogs, ever’body has frogs under a umbrella. You could not give me frogs under a umbrella. Does she want these beans cooked?’

‘She does.’

‘Did she soak ’em overnight?’

‘She did.’

‘Did she add ginger?’

‘I believe so.’

‘What are you doin’ today?’

‘Lunch with J.C. and Mule.’

‘Fancy Skinner’s sister is movin’ here from Tennessee, she’ll have ’er own chair at A Cut Above.’

‘So I hear.’

‘You need a trim really bad.’

Here it comes, he thought. For a full decade, Puny Guthrie had monitored his barbering regimen—in truth, had a particular zeal for it.

‘I had a trim a couple of weeks ago.’

‘That was in Ireland,’ she said.

‘How much could it grow in two weeks?’

‘I been wantin’ to say it, but I hated to—they left it too long. It’s throwin’ money down th’ drain when they leave it too long, I can tell you that.’ Out with the mop bucket.

‘Miserere nobis.’

‘What’d you say?’

‘Talking to myself.’

How many times had he wanted to tell her to back off, he had a wife to mind his business? But he couldn’t say that to this spunky mountain girl whom he loved like a daughter. Puny had ministered to him as tenderly as any angel before Cynthia came on the scene—trouble was, she never stopped doing it, and he didn’t have the heart to rebuke her.

‘You said you’d never go back to Fancy again in this life, an’ Lord knows, I don’t blame you, but maybe her sister would work out. It’d save you th’ trip to Wesley. You know th’ price of gas these days an’ Joe Joe says it’s not goin’ down anytime soon.’

Talk about meddling; he was a novice.

She ran hot water in the mop bucket and turned, green eyes wide, to pin him to the wall of the study.

‘So?’ she said.

‘So, what?’

‘You know. What I brought you.’

‘Thanks,’ he said, stiff as a board. ‘A very helpful household hint.’ End of discussion.

‘It sure made you nicer this mornin’.’

He fled upstairs to don his running gear.

•   •   •

‘I’M HAVIN’ TWO CHILDREN’S PLATES,’ said Mule, looking pleased with himself.

‘Why a children’s plate?’ said J.C.

‘I want to see if it’s any good; it’s their new promo.’

‘And why two, for God’s sake?’

He didn’t have much to contribute to the conversation, but he’d give it a go. ‘He likes children,’ he told J.C.

‘So order one children’s plate,’ said J.C., ‘and if you don’t like it, you won’t be stuck with two.’

‘But I really like macaroni and cheese,’ said Mule.

‘Which comes with a grilled cheese sandwich, for crap’s sake. You want to detonate your arteries?’

‘You only get half a grilled cheese with it.’

‘But if you get two plates, one each with half a grilled cheese, that’s a whole grilled cheese plus a double macaroni and cheese. Why not just order a grilled cheese and a side of macaroni and save a buck fifty? I thought you liked to pinch a penny.’

‘I want two children’s plates, one at a time.’